


Always with the Best Intentions

by xLovelyPoisonx



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, back at it again with the self-indulgent shit, don't look at me, i'm poly ship trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLovelyPoisonx/pseuds/xLovelyPoisonx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru is just your (above) average university student trying to survive whilst juggling exam periods, homework, and volleyball -- oh, and let's not forget the trio of terror that seems to be lying in wait around every corner ready to tempt and taunt her. Wait. Tempt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions Aren't Always Perfect

She’s literally perfect, Oikawa thought to herself with no small amount of disgruntlement as she glared over the rim of her caramel macchiato at the source of her distress. The barista responsible for crafting the deliciously warm drink she now cupped between her slowly thawing hands, Akaashi Keiji, could not be human. It was simply impossible!

She had perfect hair; dark, and always shining like a halo that framed her equally perfect heart shaped face. Her jawline was sharp, cheekbones pronounced (but not so much that her face looked sunken in -- and how she achieved that without a lick of makeup was beyond Oikawa’s understanding and all the more infuriating), and her nose was slim and elegant. The feature of her face that bothered Oikawa most, however, was definitely those eyes. Those eyes were impossibly dark, and if you looked into them for too long, it always felt as if you were drowning in their emerald depths. Framed by ridiculously long, thick, black lashes, these were the eyes of a goddess.

Oikawa hated her. She hated her for being slim, and lithe, and toned, too. Though, Oikawa was proud to observe that she had more in the way of curves (alright, truth be told she wasn’t much better off than Akaashi, but it’s the little things when you’re comparing yourself to an actual goddess). And you would think, given all of her physical perfections, that there would be something to find fault in her for regarding her personality or academics, right? 

Wrong. 

Akaashi Keiji was an honor student that participated in volleyball, tutored peers, and worked part-time at the coffee house on campus that Oikawa used to enjoy soliciting in. But not now. Now it felt like her territory had been intruded on. And the worst part of it all was that Iwa-chan thought her complaints were, get this, childish! Clearly Iwa-chan had never faced the same scrutiny that Oikawa had, what with their definitive differences in build and, well, everything else. Iwaizumi was built, and did everything within her power to keep it that way. Weight lifting, cardio, volleyball -- it was honestly exhausting just thinking of all the numerous exercises her best friend did in order to keep that masculine figure of hers.

Oikawa had always been the pretty one of the pair. And up until the day she met Akaashi Keiji, she was confident in the belief that she was the ‘pretty one’ on campus, too. Her confidence, however, had been well and thoroughly shaken by the cool beauty that seemed either oblivious or indifferent to Oikawa’s jealousy. 

“Akaashi!” A figure burst in through the coffee house’s doors then, bringing with them the wintry chill that Oikawa had sought refuge against. She cursed under her breath as she hunched forward around her cup, as if the steam still billowing from the top would melt the frost that had gathered over her features.

The dark haired beauty behind the counter sighed softly and greeted the new customer with a gentle smile that clearly betrayed her true feelings towards the severely underdressed female. And honestly, how anyone could possibly be comfortable in those sub-zero conditions while wearing a pair of shorts and a jacket was beyond Oikawa, but that was beside the point. Because Akaashi was smiling a true, genuine smile that made her eyes light up; Oikawa’s stomach did weird little flip flops in response to that smile, even though it wasn’t directed at her. 

The two talked briefly (though it seemed rather one sided, with the oddly dressed girl speaking while Akaashi listened with the patience of a saint), and then the girl walked away, drink in hand, to settle at Oikawa’s table.

Oikawa, for her part, did an admirable job of disguising her (warranted) confusion with a friendly smile. Her lipstick was still fresh, still perfect, and this knowledge made Oikawa’s lips curl ever so slightly in disgust as she gazed across the table at the stranger that had planted herself there. The winter weather had not been kind to her in the slightest. Her lips, reasonably sized to fit well with the rest of her face with a lower lip fuller than the upper lip, but thankfully not by much, were chapped. Oikawa was horrified. Had this girl never heard of the incredible invention of chapstick?! 

“Hello,” she greeted amiably. 

“Hey!” The other girl chirped back -- well, no, that wasn’t the right word. She spoke enthusiastically, boisterously, loudly -- despite having only said a single word. Her dry lips were curled up at both corners into a grin so wide that Oikawa feared it might split her face. Or at least her lips. Gross. 

Pushing aside thoughts of cracked lips, Oikawa dragged her gaze upward to rest upon the most intensely gold eyes she had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself frozen, staring deeply into twin pools of molten gold. Despite the other girl’s relaxed, easy going demeanor, she had the eyes of a predator. Oikawa suddenly felt uncomfortable and lifted her cup to her lips once more, taking another, longer than necessary sip. Her tongue rubbed along the roof of her mouth as she lowered the cup to the tabletop, attempting to soothe the burn that the hot drink had caused. 

After a moment of strained silence, there was the chiming of a bell from the front of the building that indicated another patron had entered. Oikawa was simultaneously relieved and annoyed, as this pulled those golden eyes away from her and toward the doorway. Her heart was pounding in a way that she was unfamiliar with. This had nothing to do with the exhilaration she got from playing a match, or the pride she felt when her team achieved victory -- this was different, frightening. She wanted to escape before those eyes ensnared her once again, but it would seem that fate was against her on this particular day. 

An arm was slung about her shoulders carelessly, jostling her in her seat. Oikawa cursed under her breath as she attempted to right her cup before the contents could slosh out over the sides. Once that crisis was averted, she whipped her head to one side, glaring daggers up at a familiar face. 

“Hey now, no need to look at me like that! If you keep it up, you’ll get wrinkles.” Kuroo Tetsurou wore a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat turn green with envy. She, at least, was dressed reasonably considering the weather. Though her fashion choices were still as questionable as ever; a pair of simple black sweat pants hung dangerously low on her slim hips, and the jacket she wore had ridden up at some point, leaving a sliver of pale skin visible, not to mention vulnerable to the elements. 

Oikawa huffed out an annoyed breath and brushed off the arm still resting casually across her shoulders. Kuroo and the girl that had yet to introduce herself watched in silence as Oikawa smoothed the space between her brows with her middle and index fingers, sporting matching grins as they locked eyes briefly from over the top of Oikawa’s head. 

“What?” She snapped irritably. Her pretty pink lips were pursed as she stared them both down in turn. “I’m sure you didn’t come here just to harass me, right? Go bother someone else -- and I mean both of you. Shoo!” 

As if it wasn’t bad enough that the weather outside made her feel like an eskimo, now she had to deal with two idiots, plus the pretty barista that was now definitely looking their way with this tiny smirk -- and oh hell, she was hot even when she was quite clearly enjoying Oikawa’s misery. Oikawa was most assuredly not in the mood to deal with this.

Kuroo finally leaned back, effectively leaving Oikawa’s personal space bubble, and offered the irritated brunette a lazy one shouldered shrug as though she hadn’t just been lying all over her like some overgrown house cat. Her lips were still quirked into one of those little smirks that Oikawa had come to associate with the other girl in the short time they had known each other. It did nothing to placate Oikawa. If anything, it only added fuel to the fire.

She gritted her perfect white teeth (which she had worked hard to keep stainless and pristine, thank you very much!) and slammed her hands down on the table before her, pushing herself up to her feet. Exams were fast approaching, classes were still hellish, she had volleyball practice, and homework, and not nearly enough caffeine in her system -- and this terrible trio was pushing all of her buttons at once. She was bound to snap.

Without another word, she stormed out of the coffee house and out into the unforgiving cold.


	2. Sick and Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsukishima is an asshole and Kuroo gains bragging rights! These two things are totally unrelated, but that doesn't make either any less true.

For once in her nineteen years of living, Oikawa cursed herself for having such exceptional taste. If not for the fact that she was so fearful of ruining her hair, then she would have worn a hat, and maybe, just maybe she wouldn’t have ended up bedridden. And if she hadn’t ended up bedridden, she wouldn’t have had to deal with her roommate. The only reason their arrangement worked as well as it did was due to the fact that a majority of the time they weren’t in the room together. Their schedules clashed, meaning that while one was in class, the other wasn’t, therefore had free reign of the room.

Tsukishima Kei was an asshole. The blonde was snarky, rude, foul-mouthed -- and had the body of an amazon. All in all it was unfair. Mile long legs like hers belonged to someone that would be more grateful for them! 

Someone like Oikawa. But that was beside the point! Tsukishima was awful as far as roommate’s went. After learning that Oikawa had caught a cold, she immediately arranged to stay with a friend (which Oikawa found hilarious in her fever induced delirium because who would willingly be friends with someone like Tsukishima?), and had packed while shooting disgusted looks none-too-subtly in Oikawa’s direction whenever she so much as coughed.

What an asshole. 

The blonde shuffled out in record time, and after closing the door behind her, left Oikawa alone to her thoughts. Her fever-induced thoughts. The first was this: she, Oikawa Tooru, was strong enough to combat a fever. There was no way it could hold her back! Going to class -- hell, going to practice in this condition would be a piece. Of. Cake.

Oikawa was wrong. And later, for perhaps the first time in her life, she would admit as much. Ten minutes after Tsukishima had made her escape, Oikawa too, had slipped out of the room. Dressed in only her pajamas (which didn’t leave much to the imagination; a pair of shorts that barely hit mid-thigh and a t-shirt in a galaxy pattern print), she wandered down one hall after another in a desperate attempt to find the exit. But no such luck.

The brunette was exhausted not too long after beginning her venture into the world outside of her dorm room. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, causing her hair to cling to her forehead and the back of her neck. Any other time, Oikawa would have been disgusted, and immediately hauled her perky ass to the nearest shower -- alas, she was delirious, feverish, and determined to go to class. Still in her pajamas, sweating profusely, and glassy eyed, with no makeup on. 

She made it to the lobby before anyone managed to catch sight of her. And though most took out their phones to snap pictures or take video of the ‘hungover chick’, there was one girl that showed pity on the disheveled brunette.

“Alright, enough of that. Let’s get you back to your room, yeah?” The voice was vaguely familiar, but Oikawa couldn’t recall where she had heard it before, nor did she know who the voice belonged to. It was definitely feminine, but pitched slightly lower than most girl’s voices, and smooth. The voice was soothing, and Oikawa hummed softly as she nuzzled closer to the figure that was currently holding her upright. 

There was silence after that, which Oikawa filled with low, indistinguishable muttering, as the kind familiar stranger lead her back down the hall. “What’s your room number?” The voice asked, still smooth and so warm, so close…

After not receiving a response, the voice’s owner sighed, and turned suddenly, pulling Oikawa down a different path. Stumbling at first, Oikawa vocalized a complaint -- or at least intended to -- that rose in her throat and tumbled past her lips as a groan. Her head was throbbing, and her whole body ached. Her throat was dry, raspy, and sore. And she was hungry! But at the same time, she wasn’t. Her stomach grumbled lowly, and Oikawa took that as a warning against ingesting anything of substance for a while.

Oikawa woke some time later in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room. The details regarding how she’d ended up in this predicament evaded her, as well, which only made her all the more suspicious -- not to mention anxious. Her last memory before waking up were of walking into the dormitory lobby...In her pajamas…

The realization took a little longer than it normally would have, but when it dawned on Oikawa that she had essentially humiliated herself in front of the people that she would be studying with for years to come, she curled in on herself with a groan. This wasn’t the kind of thing that simply got overlooked. Oh no -- this was grade A blackmail material. Oikawa was doomed. 

“Hey,” the voice from before, the one that she couldn’t place in her feverish haze, belonged to none other than the one and only (thank god for that) Kuroo Tetsurou. She wasn’t wearing her usual smirk, however. Her brows were knitted together over the tops of her honey colored eyes, which reflected only concern now as they gazed down at Oikawa, and those lips that normally bore a Cheshire Cat grin were set into a startlingly serious frown. It was odd, all in all, to see Kuroo looking anything other than smug.

Oikawa shifted a bit in order to pull the comforter up over her chest, holding it tightly in a fist tucked underneath her chin. She eyed the other girl warily from her place on the bed before speaking. “Where am I?” Her voice cracked, throat too dry to properly formulate the words she wanted to speak, and she shuddered at the strangeness of it. Oikawa Tooru didn’t suffer from voice cracks. Ever.

Kuroo seemed to take this as some kind of cue to play nurse, or something, and pushed herself forward into the room with a washcloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Here. You’ll feel better after you drink this.” Her voice was firm, but her gaze was thoughtful, and Oikawa was temporarily thrown off balance by the unusual combination of seriousness and Kuroo Tetsurou. The two simply weren’t regularly paired together.

Though she wanted to refuse, and wanted to demand that Kuroo answer her question, Oikawa took the glass of water gratefully and just barely restrained herself from guzzling it down in one graceless gulp. She was more conscious of herself now, however, and drank with care. Her throat thanked her for it. 

After drinking half of the glass’s contents, Oikawa lowered it to her lap, still cupped between her hands, and leveled Kuroo with a gaze that clearly said, “I want answers, and I want them now”. 

The taller girl sighed, raking fingers back through her hair (which seemed to be perpetually messy -- or was that an intentional style?) before responding. “Alright, alright. This is my room, so there’s no need to freak out, okay?” 

Oikawa quirked a brow at her in a silent judgmental manner. She was obviously not impressed with this explanation, and she would be the one to decide whether or not she had reason to freak out, thank you very much.

“I brought you here cause I have no idea what your room number is, and if I’d left you alone, I’m pretty sure you would’ve passed out on a bench somewhere on campus.” Kuroo drawled in that low, smooth voice of hers as she plopped down into a chair positioned by the window a few feet away. She gazed at Oikawa expectantly, now arching a brow of her own (and okay, way to be a copycat, Kuroo).

“What’s that look for?” Oikawa was definitely not pouting. But if she were to pout in this situation, then it would be totally justified! 

Those honey colored irises had never been so intimidating before. It honestly felt as if Kuroo were staring through her, rather than at her. And then, as quickly as it had come, the intense aura that had previously surrounded the other girl dissipated. Kuroo shrugged (as she was wont to do) and offered a smile that didn’t quite sit right with Oikawa. It was far too genuine, too sweet to be a grin or a smirk -- those were customary for Kuroo; par for the course, if you will. And Oikawa was prepared to handle those expressions. But not this one. 

“What?” She snapped again, feeling her agitation reach the boiling point as she was subjected to that smile and those piercing cat-like eyes.

Kuroo drew a leg up onto the chair, settling her chin on her knee whilst her other leg swung absently from side to side. It was oddly hypnotizing watching that leg (clad in the loose, aged sweatpants material that Oikawa had come to associate with Kuroo) sway, as if following the rhythm of a tune that only Kuroo knew. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better ‘s all.”

If Oikawa blushed (which she didn’t, dammit! She was just flushed from her fever) well, no one outside of the room could prove it.

And if Kuroo happened to send a text to both Bokuto and Akaashi later that same day (while Oikawa was asleep, and blissfully unaware of the betrayal taking place against her) with a picture attached of a disheveled, flushed, and peacefully sleeping Oikawa, well...There were mixed feelings regarding the matter from the other two aforementioned parties.

[Owl bro]  
Woah!!! Wait a sec -- y r u in her room taking pics while she sleeps?? That’s creepy bro.

[Sass master]  
I believe that’s your room, Bokuto-san.

[Owl bro]  
HOLY SHIT!!! What’s she doing in our room???

[Cool cat]  
I’ll tell you later. 

[Cool cat]  
Not cause it’s a long story, but cause I wanna see your face when I tell ya.

Kuroo could practically see the smoke no doubt billowing from her roommate’s ears in her mind’s eye. Oh yeah, these were serious bragging rights. And she was going to milk them for as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't end. Sorry to say that Bokuto & Akaashi only made a mini cameo in this chapter there at the end, but I promise they'll be involved more in the future!


	3. Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa is frustrated -- and equally frustrating for the three currently trying to pursue her.

“She’s going to kill you once she sees that picture, bro.” Bokuto mused with a soft hum of contentment as she enjoyed the warmth seeping into her hands that cupped either side of the drink Akaashi had specially prepared for her. “No mercy; I bet it’ll be slow and painful.” She paused, as if mulling this over, and a grin slowly stretched her lips. “I think it’d be pretty hot. You think she’d let me watch?” 

Akaashi, evidently not as entertained by the prospect as Bokuto, reached over and pinched the other girl’s side, eliciting a yelp. Her face betrayed nothing, but her eyes glimmered with the faintest embers of amusement as she was faced with a pouting, ruffled Bokuto. 

“Hilarious, Bo. She’s not going to find out, though, not if I can help it. And you aren’t allowed to say anything about it, either. Got it? If Oikawa found out--” 

“If Oikawa found out, what?” 

There was a saying that Kuroo had heard once or twice before, and it came flooding to the forefront of her mind now as she tipped her head back to stare up into the perfect face of one Oikawa Tooru -- speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Kuroo hastily slapped on an easy grin to hide her surprise at Oikawa’s sudden arrival. “Hey there, Princess.” She greeted with a flash of dazzling white teeth. Though she wasn’t one to put much care into her appearance, she did like having all of her teeth inside her head, so her oral routine was spot-on. Oikawa evidently didn’t like her new nickname, if the way her glossy pink lips pursed into the tightest of lines was anything to go by. But hey, Kuroo found it fitting, and she was unlikely to stop just because her highness got in a tizzy over it. 

Bokuto couldn’t stop herself from snickering like a grade-schooler, however. She was silenced quite abruptly as another pinch was delivered to her side, and pouted into her still steaming beverage (which was emitting an admittedly desirable scent; hazelnut, maybe?) while resolutely ignoring everyone else gathered at the table. 

“I sincerely hope you’re just on break,” Oikawa directed this at Akaashi, who nodded silently with one of these small, knowing smiles that certainly didn’t make Oikawa’s heart flutter a bit inside her chest. Seeing the nod placated the brunette, who sighed softly in relief as she dropped into the chair next to Kuroo.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, either. We’re going to have a conversation later.” She whispered harshly into Kuroo’s pierced ear. And how had she not noticed that before? A bar through the cartilage at the tip of her ear, multiple studs decorating the lobe, and a hoop gleaming from one tough ridge in the center of the ear -- she was bound to be a metal detector’s dream come true. Or worst nightmare.

Kuroo, true to form, was unperturbed by Oikawa’s thinly veiled threat and shot her a mock, two finger salute. “It’s a date, Princess.” 

A flush worked its way up her neck, across her cheeks, and rose til it colored even the tips of her ears. Kuroo Tetsurou was absolutely infuriating, and Oikawa wanted as little to do with her as possible -- at least, that’s what she told herself. So why was she subjecting herself to the torment of meeting with her later? All for clarification on some most likely trivial matter? It clearly wasn’t worth her time. But Oikawa’s curiosity was piqued. And she begrudgingly acknowledged (to herself alone) that Kuroo Tetsurou was as interesting as she was obnoxious. 

Akaashi returned to her post behind the counter, and Oikawa gratefully darted over to place her order. A vanilla latte with a nice blend of caramel and hazelnut flavors to satisfy her sweet tooth and soothe her nerves.

Cupping it in her hands, Oikawa took a sip -- and moaned softly at the flavors that exploded across her tongue before the liquid glided smoothly down her throat. Totally oblivious to the fact that she had not, in fact, been as quiet as she initially thought, Oikawa shot Akaashi a grateful smile before taking a seat at her table (even if it was being occupied by idiots that seemed to exist solely to irritate her).

Kuroo and Bokuto shared matching looks of discomfort as Oikawa approached, but remained silent on the matter. Jealousy flared hot in Kuroo’s abdomen, but she stamped it out quickly to avoid making a rash decision that she was sure to regret later. It’s not like Akaashi purposefully brewed a drink so perfect that it would elicit that kind of reaction from Oikawa, after all. 

...Right? 

One glance in the barista’s direction was enough to indicate that this was true; Akaashi’s cheeks tinted a faint, but visible pink hue. She was just as much a victim here as Kuroo and Bokuto were. The alliance still held strong for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one's shorter than the others, but I like to cut things off at what I feel is a reasonable point. And that last line just holds a certain note of finality to it for me. So yeah, there you have it! I'll try to get the next chapter out soon. And hopefully we'll get some action going between these four in the near future!


	4. It's a date!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little talk in the coffee house after hours dissolves into something more serious. But with these four, things rarely stay serious for long (and Bokuto and Kuroo are to blame).

The coffee house had long since closed its doors for the day, but four figures still sat together at a round table in the dimly lit room, each holding drinks long forgotten as conversation swallowed up their concentration.

Oikawa was gaping in horror at Kuroo who at least had the decency to look sheepish as she pocketed her phone once more. 

“I can’t believe...You took a picture of me while I was sleeping? My hair...And I wasn’t even wearing makeup…” The brunette groaned dramatically as she dropped her head onto her folded arms. “My reputation is ruined.” She grumbled, her voice muffled, but still remotely understandable to those that listened closely enough.

Bokuto reached over and patted the crown of Oikawa’s head with one large, calloused, but surprisingly gentle hand. “Hey, no, that’s not true! Kuroo only showed me and Akaashi, anyway. It’s good that you weren’t wearing makeup. It’s bad to keep it on your face while you’re sleeping, isn’t it?” 

Oikawa lifted her head in order to peer curiously at the other girl, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “Yes...Yes, it is, but how would you know about that?” 

Golden eyes blinked owlishly at her before the words finally seemed to register. Bokuto puffed out her chest proudly with a grin. “I might not wear makeup, but I still know how it works.” And if she did research and tried products in the past (which never worked out, in the end, since she always sweated them off anyway), well no one needed to know.

“Oh, I see.” Alright, Oikawa was admittedly a little impressed. Though it still seemed odd to her that Bokuto, of all people, would be knowledgeable about makeup. She was an athlete through and through, and clearly didn’t wear so much as mascara -- not that she needed it. Her skin was startlingly smooth for someone that exercised so regularly, and without acne or any other blemishes that Oikawa could see. Her lips were full, and certainly dry, but not cracked (which Oikawa was grateful to note, because cracked lips are significantly more disgusting than merely dry lips. Dry lips could be aided by chapstick, after all). Bokuto was strangely attractive, too. She radiated charisma, and had this odd charm about her that, had admittedly drawn even Oikawa in. Though she knew better than to mention that little tidbit of information at this particular table. 

She must have been staring, because snickering drew her from her thoughts, and the other three girls seated at the table were all gazing at her with some level of amusement evident in the set of their features. Oikawa floundered for something intelligent to say without much luck. After a moment, she cleared her throat and decided to occupy herself by sipping at her drink. It was warm and comforting, and allowed her to think of something other than the way Akaashi’s eyes lit up when she smiled. She could temporarily ignore the way Bokuto’s whole body shook with the sheer force of her laughter as Kuroo told a tale of some classmate of hers that had walked in without pants. She really did have quite a way with words, and her inflection was nice; she had a gift for storytelling. Even Oikawa found herself snorting occasionally at the ridiculousness of it all.

“So,” Bokuto spoke up as the last notes of laughter faded from the air, leaving the group to sit in comfortable silence. Three pairs of eyes shifted to gaze intently at her, all waiting expectantly for her to finish her train of thought. She grinned, clearly enjoying the attention, and leaned forward with her hands planted firmly on the table. “When are you going to let us take you out?” 

Oikawa was sure that she had absolutely no idea who Bokuto was addressing that question to. However, when three pairs of eyes gazed expectantly at her, well, she got her answer. For the second time that night, Oikawa struggled to find words. She was much more eloquent normally! But the honest, open sincerity she saw shining in the eyes of each girl seated at that table with her had her dumbfounded. 

Dating was not a priority for her. She hadn’t considered looking for someone, much less three someone’s -- and it turned out that she didn’t need to look for them at all. Because they had been there all along, just waiting for her to catch on. 

Clearing her throat again, Oikawa lowered her cup to the tabletop and leveled Bokuto with an even, unreadable gaze. “I’m free this Saturday after six,” she paused, lips pursing as she forced down a smile at Bokuto’s victorious ‘whoop!’ of evident joy. Kuroo was wearing one of those self-satisfied grins of hers, and even Akaashi looked quietly pleased. “but,” she punctuated the word with a soft pop of her lips. “you have to prove your worth on the court before I’ll even consider going out with you.” 

Something in the air shifted then, sparks igniting between the four young women as their competitive natures flared to life at the obvious challenge that Oikawa had posed.

“You’re on!” Bokuto agreed without hesitation, golden eyes taking on that predatory gleam that Oikawa vaguely remembered seeing days before.

Akaashi nodded mutely in agreement, but there was no dismissing the fire that glowed brightly behind emerald irises now.

And Kuroo, in much the way Oikawa had anticipated, responded with a smirk that may have reflected the faintest bit of admiration. It was easily overwhelmed by an undeniable desire to win, however. There are some things that you simply can’t shake from your days as captain, after all. “No complaints here, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We've actually moved things along, and there's hope that these four will get together officially before this fic's number of chapters enters the double digits! I hope you're enjoying this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I can't seem to leave it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter here! These four will be the death of me, I swear. I'm in volleyball hell. Don't bother sending help; I'm too far gone now.


End file.
